Severed
by DarkestSight
Summary: Kíli finds something abandoned on the battlefield.


_A.N.: I can't tell you when or where this takes place because I don't know. It's just a short melodramatic scene occurring somewhere and somewhen._

**Severed**

**By DarkestSight**

The battlefield is black and bloody with the bodies of orcs. What was once a forest is now a graveyard. Kíli steps tiredly between the dead so weary the sword he carries almost drags along the ground. His bow, having long ago run out of arrows, remains strapped to his back.

His muscles ache and he longs for rest, but despite his exhaustion, he smiles. The battle is over. They have won. The exhilaration of fighting hasn't yet left him and he is full of adrenaline and simple relief at being alive.

Squinting against the sunlight streaming through the branches of the trees, he spies several other members of their company in the distance and begins to head towards them. After only a few steps though, he stops spotting something out of place on the ground. It glints in the sunlight a contrast to the brown of the forest floor and the grey skin, grey armour, and black blood of orcs.

Sheathing his sword, he bends to pick the object up reaching for it without realizing what it is. His first glimpse was of gold and he thought someone had lost a treasure in the middle of the fighting. Instead, his hand closes around a braid, a braid woven of golden blonde hair.

One end is held together by a familiar metal bead.

The other end is stained bright red with blood.

It feels as if his heart stops and all he can do for a long moment is stand there staring at what he holds in his hand. The chilling fear that goes through him freezes him to the spot. Images go through his mind. He sees the braid being woven together by nimble fingers, hanging limply against a leather coat soaked with rain water, flying through the air as its owner spins and dances, twin blades swinging.

He looks up, eyes wide and desperate searching for any sign of the braid's owner.

"Fíli!" he cries.

He tries to remember where he last saw his brother, but he was turned around so many times during the battle it's impossible to tell.

"Fíli!" he cries again.

It's his fault. He should have tried harder to stay at his side, should have fought harder to get back to him after they were separated, should have been watching his brother's back like he was supposed to.

"Fíli!" he cries louder.

He stumbles over discarded weapons and bodies as he searches high and low hoping it's not among the bodies he will find him. He can barely even breathe as he considers the possibility of a world without his brother in it.

"Fíli," he whispers as he gazes back down at the braid still clutched tightly in his hand.

A call comes from somewhere in the distance and he looks up to see a figure waving.

He runs towards them, jumping over the bodies now, only stopping when he come to a small group of dwarfs clustered by the edge of the battlefield.

Bofur was the one who was waving and he gazes at him with concern.

"You alright, lad?" he asks.

"Fíli," is all Kíli manages to say as he gasps for air.

Understanding passes over Bofur's features and he nods his head at something behind him.

All Kíli sees at first are the backs of Oin and Balin bent over something, and then Balin moves away and there's Fíli.

He's sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree. He looks tired and disgruntled and is covered in orc blood, but he is alive.

Again, the only thing Kíli can do is stand and stare.

A cut crosses Fíli's temple on the right side of his head where one of his golden braids is now missing, the hair shorn away. Blood has trickled down from the cut in long, dark red trails caking the right side of his face and neck, and dripping onto his shoulder. He grimaces as Oin dabs at the wound with a damp cloth.

"Fíli," Kíli says, a slight quaver escaping into his voice.

Fíli looks up at him and his eyes light up with relief. Pushing Oin aside, he rises to his feet and takes a step towards him.

There are so many things Kíli wants to say in that moment, things he should have said long ago, but all that comes out is "You're lopsided."

Fíli gives a huff of laughter and pulls him into a hug.

"It's alright," he whispers into his ear. "I'm okay." Because he's Kíli's big brother and he understands what Kíli means to say even when he doesn't say it.

His heart finally beating again, Kíli squeezes his damp eyes shut and holds his brother, the severed braid still clenched tightly in his fist.


End file.
